


Your Cloud

by Dahlia_Llewellyn



Series: Strange Little Girls: A Tori Amos Playlist [5]
Category: Scarlet's Walk - Tori Amos (Album), Tori Amos (Musician)
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Music, Inspired by Real Events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:17:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6592603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dahlia_Llewellyn/pseuds/Dahlia_Llewellyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If the rain has to separate/from itself, does it say, "Pick out your cloud?"--Tori Amos, "Your Cloud" from the album Scarlet's Walk (2002).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Cloud

**Author's Note:**

> This short piece came months after the first four. It's definitely autobiographical--I'm not going to front with you. This piece was a reenactment of the breaking up of my engagement. So, there's that...

It’s amazing how quickly the weather can change.

A few moments ago, I was certain that I completely understood where this was going, and how long it was going, and then a storm hits. I didn’t feel the chill until he asked me to move the wedding date back. That’s when the cold front was finally on the map.

Meteorology isn’t my strong suit, I guess. Then again, neither is telling what is on his mind. Nor is it easy to tell when the kisses started to feel less deep, less meaningful. How could I have missed the signs?

Perhaps there has been a drifting apart in the last few weeks, in the past few months, and I was too busy wanting to die to notice that our love was dying at the same time. It can’t be easy loving someone like me who, despite herself, holds you and knows that her touch is temporary.

But you can’t tell me you don’t want me anymore. This can’t be the beginning of the end. This can’t be the part where you tell me that the engagement is off, the relationship is off. How do I go on being my own person when so much of who I am involves you?

When clouds separate, it’s a gradual, piecemeal thing. They morph from one shape to the next, from bunnies to dragons to nebulae of grayish streaks, until they dissipate. But how am I supposed to figure out how to separate myself from you? We are not clouds. We were once, but now we are the same storm front, the same cloud.

When it comes time, how will we know the borderline between the two of us? We have shared everything—a bed, a home, a future—and how are we supposed to break that up to start over, broken and diffuse, somewhere else with someone else?

Oh God, is there someone else?

Is there someone else?

Your eyes tell me no. So what is it?

“You” your eyes say.

So that’s it. That’s done. I am defective, broken, and too hurt to be loved by you anymore. What good is the ring then? What good are all of those words? What good was your promise to me before we ever moved in together?

If that’s how you want it, fine. Go pick out your own cloud. Go be a tornado somewhere else. Fuck up some other person’s life. Go!

And don’t ever come back.

 


End file.
